Poetry: LSD

"Still hope" 
 by Marie C.

LSD

by Arthur Sadrian

​

This world is yours,

but only if you paint

seven corners of the stop

sign with the speckled

acrylic of denial. Trawl

your toes deep into the

rivets of metaphysicality

until you sink through

rippling rubber-glass, emerge

where they walk upside-down

in rows of two and three of

every language. You needn’t

hear them as they mutter

that you’ve gone crazy,

that, “no, the sky is

not the void and, no, I’m

not going to open my

eyes into neon fairytales

and, for the final time,

please put that happy ending

away and chew tobacco like

the rest of us.” Forget them.

Grasp the giant squid’s

flashing tentacle as you

swing through rice-paper

microcosms that bend

and shrivel into doves on

chronological footpaths.

Only that, now, chronology

is as turbulent as apples

on an autumn day.

​

About the author

Arthur Sadrian has been an avid writer and novelist since his crayon days. He has written over a dozen novels, novellas, novelettes and poetry books by his own initiative and is published and forthcoming in literary magazines such as Beltway Quarterly, Down in the Dirt and Teen Ink. He has also served as a Junior Editor on Polyphony Lit, Chief Content Officer at a startup, Copy Editor of his school’s yearbook committee and is an alumnus of the Iowa Young Writers’ Studio.